


Perspectives Renewed

by TSia



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Gen, T'Sia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 19:14:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TSia/pseuds/TSia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Challenge: The story ends during a thunderstorm. During the story, a character makes a meal for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perspectives Renewed

Disclaimer: The characters belong to paramount.  
Author's note: Thanks to Saidicam for title and challenge idea and to Julianna, Path, and Ruth's suggestions for martial arts on Vulcan.

~*~

Wind howled over the plateau, playing with dust and small pebbles, driving them once here once there over the surface of rock. Suddenly, as if the elements had lost interest in the game, a strong gust of wind pushed the pebbles over the edge and then the wind died down and silence spread. What looked like the elements had won a life of their own, far away from civilization, was nothing more then the same display that took place here since ages past. Each morning with the rise of 40 Eridani A the wind would rise to greet the sun and howl over the plateau until light vanished to begin a new day and night cycle. 

The small figure sitting in the middle of the plateau folded back a dark hood and the boy dared a glance at the fiery image. Now as the sun neared the mountain tops in the distance it was safe to look up, his eyes unprotected and the beauty he saw did not allow passing unnoticed. The desert laid spread out under the plateau, the sand dunes and black dots of piled boulders here and there looking small from above although he knew they weren't. The scenery stretched far ahead to end at the foot of the Mountains of Gol, roughly two days of travelling away. Above the imposing rock formations hovered 40 Eridani A like a giant red eye, its hue growing darker by the minute as it sank between the mountains, painting the sand and even the black rock below in the colour of dark red, as red as the blood of she who had given life to him. 

'Mother,' he thought and his head bowed in shame about the fleeting sensation of regret that had flashed through him at the thought of not being fully Vulcan. He took a deep breath - the air did not feel too thin for him. 'Definitely not a human trait,' he thought and the knowledge briefly comforted him. However, it was obvious his appearance did not hint at his human heritage - he knew this. He looked Vulcan - but he could not act like one. Lost in thought his hand moved to his face, but he only noticed he had reached for it when the pain flared back up once he touched the dark bruise under his eye. His hand dropped to the ground and he suppressed the pain. Like the wind had done before it vanished into non-existence.

'Why is it so easy to control the functions of the body, but not that of the mind?' he wondered and it did not surprise him he could not control the anger welling up at the question as well as he had done with the physical sensation of pain. His palm came down flat on the stone in frustration. He felt the pain - and erased it, drawing comfort from the control he exerted. In his mind, however the emotional onslaught continued for a few minutes longer. Gradually his features evened out, the tension left the muscles of his arm and he let his hand wander over the surface of the plateau. He wondered how smooth the material felt and his gaze moved up to the setting sun and he thought about how nature had grinded the surface of the rock smooth. The task must have taken aeons, but the elements were patient. He wished he could be as patient as the wind and as steady as the track of the sun to form his mind like the rock had been formed. Could he do it?  

Well, there was at least one thing he could do right. The corner of his mouth quirked up at the mental picture of the taunters slinking off after he had fought and successfully beaten their leader again. Spock was small for his age and thin, but he was fast and learned his lessons in suus mahna well. Besides, he always had the surprise element on his side when he used a Tai Chi move that his private human teacher had shown him. The foreign manoeuvres caught the attacker off-guard and thus Spock won several fights. The form of Terran martial art had been his mother's suggestion. She had even managed to convince Sarek of the idea, arguing that their son should learn physical and mental self-discipline through Terran ways as well. It must cost her a fortune to pay the private lessons for her son. Little did she know yet, how he put the newly acquired knowledge to use. As of now he had been able to discard of torn clothing and replicate them anew by hacking into the replicator at  home, but he had known it was only a matter of time that he would have bruises that were much more difficult to hide. In fact, the day of this revelation seemed to have come. His expression sobered. His victories might not earn him the respect of his peers - as it should not, for a Vulcan should not fight to win his arguments - but it at least spared him the shame of loosing more and more ground and going home beaten. Going home, he touched the sore area under his eye again. This was the reason he had not returned home after school. This was the reason he sat here, high on the mountain plateau, wondering what to do. He knew running away had been foolish and just another proof of his tendency to forejudge. Amanda had no doubt noticed his absence by now and he wondered whether she had told Sarek already. 

The beams of the setting sun glided over his hair like a final comforting touch and then the temperature dropped sharply and Spock stood and wrapped his cape tighter around his body. At least there would be no doubt for his parents where he had gone. This would not dampen their concern though, for the desert was dangerous at night. It was time to return home.

 "So heavy thoughts for someone so young," said a male voice behind him and Spock spun around.

 

A few feet away stood a hooded figure, leaning heavily against a walking stick taller than itself; a small bag was slung over one shoulder. By the sound of the raspy voice and the slightly hunched over stance of the man Spock realized he was facing someone quite old. Shame overcame him when he understood his mental barriers must have slipped. He bowed slightly to hide the flush of his cheeks.

"I ask forgiveness, Elder," he said politely.

The figure lifted its head a fraction as if perking up. "What for?" he asked. Spock was a bit puzzled by the question. The offence had been obvious and his fault, but he heard true surprise and curiosity in the old man's voice.

"My control failed. I must have been projecting my thoughts if you can perceive my emotions," he replied.

"Controls, ah yes," the figure said as if he had to think about the meaning of this word and then he lifted one arthritis marked hand and pointed at the youth with a finger that was as crooked and bent as the man's walking stick. "And you were projecting quite strongly at that!"

Spock heard the vehemence in the voice without seeing the others expression and he knew his error must have been grave. "Forgive me, I did not wish to offend you, Venerable Elder."

"Nah, nah," the man said and waved his apology aside. With some effort he shuffled over to Spock, his feet making dragging sounds on the smooth rock. He stopped beside the boy and drew back his hood to reveal his face.

The first association that shot through Spock's mind was that the face looked as old and wise as the rock beneath his feet. The face was long and gaunt, framed by wisps of fine white hair that stood out in several directions, ruffled by the hood. The skin, unusually fair for a Vulcan, came across as knitted and as thin as parchment. However, deep lines that edged the hawk like nose and the strong formed mouth belied the fragile appearance of the skin and told of experience and age. Only the crinkles around the light blue eyes seemed to tell another story and an instant later Spock saw which, when, to his utter astonishment, the elder's features changed from expressionless into a smile. 

"I was not chiding you, my boy," the elder said. "You seem to have an unusual talent."

The smile was so unexpected that the praise got lost on Spock and instead of answering properly his mouth only dropped open without a sound leaving it. Vulcans did not smile! Yet he felt not frightened because the elder's eyes did not shine with madness but with a similar kind of gentle warmth he could see when his mother smiled at him. His mind raced through the different explanations for the open display and he forgot his good manners not to pry in someone else's private affairs.

"Are you of the desert tribes?" he asked, excited to have probably met a member of the people who had turned their back to logic and lived as the forefathers did, hidden away in the desert, avoiding contact to strangers at all costs.

"The smile makes you wonder, does it not?" the elder asked in return and Spock nodded. 

"My father says showing emotion, as in smiling, is not logical."

The old man nodded. "Your father is right." Then he looked up and the vanishing daylight reflected in his eyes. "To answer your question, I am not of the desert tribes. I am merely old and I realized that logic is the beginning of wisdom," he looked back at the boy, "Not the end."

Spock's forehead creased in confusion. "I do not understand this statement."

The smile touched the elder's lips again. "Time will be your teacher," he said and then he tilted his head to one side. "What is your name, child?"

Spock bowed lightly, "I am Spock, son of Sarek."

"Ah, yes I have heard this name," the elder replied. He lifted his hand in the traditional Vulcan salute, the fingers shaking lightly from age. "Greetings, Spock. I am Solan." 

"I am honoured," Spock said and lifted his hand to return the greeting.

The tremor in the hand of the older intensified under the strain of maintaining the greeting and Solan slowly returned it to the walking stick, leaning on it heavily. "Your father would also not approve of you roaming the desert alone at this time, Spock, would he? Why are you out here?"

Spock cast his eyes down. "I discarded logic in favour of violence." Out of shame he fingered one strap of his school satchel, still slung over his shoulder. "I fought with my peers and because I did not wish to return home in my current attire I went into the desert."

"I see," was the only reply and when Spock looked up he did not see the disapproval he had expected. "But you cannot stay here. Look where forejudging has led you," the elder said and turned his head in the direction of the mountaintops to their left. Spock followed the gesture with his eyes and saw the clouds that were forming. He knew about the thunderstorms that occurred in the mountains at this time of the year. They were not unusual. He was too high on the mountain side, however, to be able to go home and outrun the thunderstorm before it would roll down the flanks of the sleeping Volcano. 

"I can not outrun it," Spock stated the obvious and looked at the elder for advice when it occurred to him he had made a grave error in first running off and then being too much in thought to realize the danger that was unfolding around him. 

Solan nodded. "Indeed you cannot. In fact we both cannot, we lost precious time with idle talk."

"I ask forgiveness, Elder."

The old man sighed. "You apologize too much, son. You should rather devote your thoughts to find a solution than mourning your error."

"I ask…" Spock stopped the phrase before it left his mouth. "We should find shelter."

"So it is," the old man replied and drew his hood back over his head when the first cold winds preceding a thunderstorm rushed over the plateau. "Come with me."

Spock followed while the weather around them grew worse with each passing second. Gusts of wind and then heavy rain set on while they left the plateau and the old man led them on a small path, winding down one flank of the mountain. Darkness blinded him and Spock hurried to follow the shuffling sound of feet ahead. When the rain fell harder and harder though, the rushing water drowned out all other sounds and Spock had to hold on to the robes of the old man to keep following. He did not to think of the path that turned muddy and slippery within seconds, not of the steep hillside he was only one step away from, did not look at the flashes of light around him, but nevertheless his hands did not shake from cold alone and he was glad he did not have to face the heavy weather alone.

He did not know how long he had trudged behind the old man, but he nearly ran into the elder when he suddenly halted. Only then did Spock notice the rain had stopped as well. No, it had not, he noticed a moment later. The sound had only decreased in volume for they had entered some sort of shelter. He was still unable to identify his surroundings, however, for he could not see more than a few feet ahead and for a moment he was scared when the wet cloth of the other's robe glided from his grasp and he heard the footsteps receding. He wanted to call out, to beg not to be left alone in the dark, but he controlled the urge.

"Have no fear," the raspy voice of the elder told him. "Stay where you are."

Spock obeyed and waited. He heard some sounds he could not identify and then suddenly a low glow of light shimmered in the dark and illuminated their surroundings. The old man had lit a small fire with the help of a fire capsule, the first item Spock noticed on the man that told him this individual did have contact to the modern Vulcan civilization, yet his behaviour did not lead to this assumption. Spock turned slowly around and recognized their shelter as part of a connected cave system, formed by former water flows. They had done a school excursion to visit these caves, but the entry had been elsewhere. Well, he had been told the system of connected tunnels was vast. His forehead creased in confusion because he had also been told something else about these tunnels. If these were indeed ancient water ducts and it was raining that heavily outside.

"Do not concern yourself; the floods do not reach up here this time of the year."

"How can you know that?"

The elder looked up from his task with the fire. He drew back his hood to be able to look directly at the boy and again he lifted his quivering, accusing finger. "Because, I have roamed the desert longer than you, child."  The voice sounded scolding, but the gleam in the light eyes was gentle.

Spock nodded his head. "Yes, elder," he replied and walked over to sit near to watch how the fire was prepared. His brows knitted when he saw how the old man poured small brownish nuggets into the fire. "What is this?"

"Chorka dung," Solan explained.

Spock shook his head. "Impossible. This animal is extinct," he replied after he went through the list of Vulcan animals he had learned about.

The old man looked at him and raised his eyebrows. "Do you doubt the existence of these nuggets?"

Spock shook his head. "I do not."

"Then I did not tell the truth," Solan concluded.

Spock's eyes grew big when he realized his words did indeed imply the elder was not telling the truth. "I meant no offence," he said, his voice not quite steady while he thought furiously how to remedy his error. "Maybe you erred?"

Solan shook his head sedately. "No, I did not."  
Spock sighed in his mind. He knew he was right. It was impossible this burning material was indeed chorka dung. The animal was extinct - it vanished along with the nomadic desert tribes. But how could he convince Solan without naming him a liar? Besides, Vulcans could not lie.

"Now that is not the truth," Solan said.

Spock closed his eyes. Why could he not stop to project his thoughts? The issue troubled him so much that he even forgot to question the statement he had been taught.  It was not making a difference whether he spoke out loud or not, he was not able to control himself. How could he not commit an offence if his thoughts betrayed him? He had just called an elder a liar! He flinched when he heard the most unusual sound from a Vulcan and watched in fascination as Solan chuckled in amusement. 

"You worry too much, young Spock"

"But," Spock still hesitated to utter the words, "but I called you a liar."

"I only saw the words in your mind. You must learn to put things into perspective. Those who are gifted take longer to control their ability; there is no offence where none was intended. Besides, I know I speak the truth," Solan said and then he tilted his head. "Can you imagine not everything is as you have been told?"

Spock tilted his head, unconsciously mirroring the elder's gesture. "In what way?"

"Here, let me show you something," Solan replied. 

Spock was puzzled for a moment when the elder just gestured into the fire and when his eyes followed, he suddenly saw picture appearing in the flames. Hooded figures walking in front of a landscape made up of desert and rocks under a vast reddish sky, leading huge four legged animals that followed with long, softly swaying steps, their backs loaded with the belongings of their shepherds. The scene seemed to zoom in and he could see the faces of the people - Vulcans. But they were talking animatedly, some of them singing, some laughing and playing with their children while crossing distance to reach their next encampment. Some of them seemed to wave at him as the scene zoomed out and he realized he had been watching memories through Solan's eyes. The pictures vanished and he looked at the old man, his eyes widened and his mouth slightly open in surprise.

"You have seen this," he said breathlessly, his voice thin with astonishment.

Solan nodded and reached into his bag to take out something round. It was a small bowl he gave to Spock. "Collect some water from outside," he advised and reached in his bag again.

Spock rose obediently despite all the questions burning inside him. Solan seemed determined to reveal his secrets at his own pace. He walked to the entrance of the cave and held the bowl outside and watched it fill in the heavy rain while he thought about what he had seen. So the tribes were not dead, nor were the animals that no scientist had seen in hundreds of decades. The old life was still out there, existed like a bio dome in a fast changing technical world, encapsulating conditions of life as they had been in antiquity, uniting, elements, animals and shepherds, as it had been in ages past. Fascinating, how they had managed to evade scientists and travellers to keep their life hidden! 

He flinched when a brilliant flash lit the sky and thunder rumbled immediately after. Looking at the sky he noticed the bowl was full only when the water ran over his hand and he returned to the fire and handed the bowl back to the elder and watched how he set it into the fire and poured a dry powder into it, transforming the simple water to a deliciously smelling soup. Spock's stomach gave a growl in answer to the pleasant smell wafting through the cave and he remembered he had eaten no more than breakfast today. His filled wef'kap rolls he should have eaten for mid meal still lay in his satchel and he reached for it to contribute them. The rolls had been stored in the outer compartment of the satchel, though, and this had been flooded with water, making the rolls inedible. Ashamed of having wasted food he turned back to the fire.

He wanted to ask questions about the people Solan had seen, but the elder was absorbed in the process of preparing the meal. He stirred the soup one last time, then took it out of the fire and set the steaming bowl between himself and the boy.

Spock took the offered piece of bread and they started to eat in silence as was custom, dipping the bread in the soup, thus discarding the need for spoons. Spock turned the bread in his hands. It was of a consistency and colour he had not seen before and tasted faintly of herbs and salt. Beside the burning material it was surely another item Solan had obtained from the tribes. Did he live with them? No, that seemed unlikely. The speech he used and the clothes he wore told Spock Solan had seen civilization. The capsule he had used to light the fire was also an accomplishment of science and not a natural fire starter. So where did he come from? Why did he travel the desert alone at his age? How had he found the desert tribes? He was startled from his thoughts and looked up abruptly when he heard Solan chuckle once more. 

"So many questions. You chatter constantly although your mouth is silent," he said.

Spock felt again the need to apologize, but when he looked into the other's eyes that glinted with amusement he felt his mouth being tugged into a tentative smile instead. He said nothing, tried to calm his thoughts and continued his meal. He looked up briefly for one last question, but this time he did not even need to think it.

"Yes, I am going to tell you more, after you finish your meal," Solan said and they both set to eat in silence.

~*~

The fire still crackled in the cave, drawing irregular patterns of light and shadow on the smooth washed walls. The old man still sat by the fire, elbows resting on his folded legs, hands held palms together in front of him. A few feet behind him, still in the vicinity of the fire's warmth lay the boy, nestled into his cape, sleeping soundly. Solan smiled briefly. The boy was exceptional, very gifted intellectually and telepathically, absorbing each word that he had been told under the promise of secrecy until his eyes grew too heavy and he fell asleep.

Outside flashes still lit the sky and thunder rolled over the mountains and the plains below, overpowering even the rushing rain in volume. Solan's mind turned to the other presence he had perceived since quite a while. He had no doubt about the identity of the other man approaching. The situation outside was dangerous, not only because of the thunderstorm but also because of the huge amounts of water gushing from the clouds above. Although the ground in the plains was holey it could not take that large amounts of water as fast as it was pouring down and so the valley could turn into a sea of mud and sand that had swallowed many. Who would go through this weather if not having a good reason? He looked briefly behind him to check on the boy who moved in his sleep as if he too could feel the presence of the other mind growing stronger.

'What you seek is here,' Solan sent and waited. After a while he looked up and saw how the image of a large shadow was thrown against the wall of the cave when a flash of electricity discharged in the atmosphere. Moments later he heard heavy steps entering the cave and a tall figure walked around the slight bend that led to the cave's entrance. The figure drew back his hood and revealed his features. The rain had obviously penetrated the thick robes of the urgent traveller, drenching the jet black hair of the man, causing drops of water to run along the temples and down the neck as well as down the strong lines of the nose, past generously curved lips, bluish in colour caused by the cold, to collect at the man's chin and drop to the ground.  Deep set, but dark and keen observing eyes took in the old man sitting by the fire and then travelled to the small figure behind. 

For a few seconds the man took in the scene and then he lifted his hand in the traditional manner. "Greetings, S'haile. I am Sarek."  

Solan nodded. "I am Solan. I regret, but I cannot greet you properly. The rain affects my joints adversely," he replied and watched the younger man whose attention had again shifted to the small figure lying behind him. "Forgive me for invading your privacy earlier, but you were in search for your son," Solan said to regain Sarek's attention. 

Sarek nodded in acceptance. "The cause was sufficient." The answer was polite, but Solan could see the other's urge to refrain from idle talk. Out of respect for the elder he stayed where he was, though. 

Solan nodded. "You found your child," he continued and made an inviting gesture with his good arm to finally allow the younger man past him. His eyes followed Sarek who did not bother to discard of his soaking wet robe and the mud covered travelling boots before he crossed the dry floor and closed the distance to his son with long strides. He knelt beside the small bundle and gently drew away the robes to reveal the delicate features of his young son. He touched Spock's temple to check his condition and his shoulders sagged in unspoken relief when he asserted his child was in sound health, just tired. Then he touched his son's chin and gently lifted the head until he could see the dark bruise under Spock's eye and the muscles along his jaw stood out visibly when he clenched his teeth in anger of what his child had to endure from his peers. He controlled the feeling when he felt the elder's eyes on him.

"The school called and reported a fight between my son and some of his classmates," he explained the situation briefly, although he could not tell why. There was no reason to let the stranger in on the problems his family faced, problems born of prejudice and ignorance towards a whole species, loaded onto the shoulders of a small child.

"Forgive my curiosity, Sarek, but I sense something special in your son. He is quite gifted for a child his age, both mentally and telepathically. He seems to be very bright and projects his thoughts quite strongly. Maybe this is why he prefers to be alone instead of spending time with other children. However, a child this young should not go into the desert alone," Solan ventured, sensing the same temperament and lively spirit in the father as he had in the mind of the son. This one might not take the intrusion in his private matters lightly.

To Solan's surprise, though, Sarek merely nodded. "I agree. He has repeatedly sought solitude in the desert after fighting with other children. I forbade him to go alone, but he goes nevertheless, leaving his parents dependent on his judgement. When he did not return by nightfall, though, we knew something unexpected must have happened." 

Sarek paused briefly, "Yes, he is special," he murmured lost in thought while watching his son sleep. Supporting himself on the floor with one hand he found the stone to be quite cold - probably too cold for a child to sleep on, so he finally discarded his wet travel robe and picked up his child. Then he returned to the fire and sat down a few feet away from the older man, leaning back against the smooth stone wall and cradling his son against his chest. The child moved in his sleep, but did not wake up. He felt the older man's gaze still resting on them and he looked up, expecting to be asked what was special about Spock, just to be faced with the same mixture of curiosity and wariness whenever he revealed the other side of his son's parentage. Solan surprised him, though.

"Whatever makes your son special, Sarek," the old man intoned. "Do not take it away from him by asking too much control too soon. He has great potential and for that he is doing well. Channel his energy, but remember that in the end some might fit role models better than others," he finished and before Sarek could answer he drew up his hood and placed his hands in meditative state, signalling the talk had ended.

Sarek looked down at Spock once again and wondered if and how to combine the old man's words with the child's upbringing and then he leaned back against the stone wall. Knowing his child was save now the emotional stress of the day lost its hold on him and the physical stress of his nightly voyage demanded its toll when his lids grew heavy. The thunderstorm had calmed down a bit outside, but the rain still rushed in an even cadence and slowly lulled him to sleep.

~*~

When Sarek awakened the next morning the first thing he noticed was that his arms were empty. Instantly alert his eyes snapped open wide and swept the interior of the cave. The old man was gone, the fire out. Close to the entrance of the cave stood Spock's satchel, but there was no trace of his son. Quickly he got to his feet, collected his travel robe and left the cave. Bathed into blazing sunlight he stopped at the entrance and blinked until his eyes grew accustomed to the brighter light outside. He looked around at the rock formations and the path that had already dried in the hot morning sun. No trace of water could be seen although it had rained all night. The desert, with its spongy ground in this area had sucked up all water without leaving anything to be wasted in the sun. Through underground tunnels the water would find its way to the huge reservoirs, supplying the city of Shi'Khar with fresh water. But Sarek did not possess the mindset now to appreciate nature's perfectionism. All his thoughts were focussed on one person and he breathed deeply when he saw his son walking down the path towards him, holding some dark green tendrils of a d'mallu plant in his hand. 

Spock approached his father and held out the tendrils. "Look, Father, they accumulated a lot of water during last night." He looked warily at Sarek, trying to get his father's mood. When he had woken up this morning, curled against his father's chest he had been surprised Sarek had indeed come after him during the heavy weather. He would not do this if he were angry with him, would he? Amanda might be angry, out of fear, but somehow this was easier to tolerate than his father's disapproval. To his surprise Sarek knelt so that his eyes were level with his. 

For a moment Sarek just looked at his son, his eyes only briefly darting to the bruise in Spock's face and he thought about mentioning it now. However, he could see the uncertainty in Spock's expression and remembered Solan's words, so he did not scold the child. 

"Did you meet Solan? Did he tell you where he went?" Spock asked when no reprimand came. He had been very disappointed when he woke up and the old man was gone. He had sensed so many stories. One night couldn't possibly be long enough to tell them all, but he so longed to know more.

Sarek shook his head. "No, Spock. He did not tell me. But he told me that he found you lost and alone." Instantly he saw his son tense up and lower his head. He extended a hand and gently lifted the chin of the boy until he had to look in his father's eyes. "We need to speak about this, Spock. Also about what happened in the school, but not now."

He looked down at Spock's hand and took the tendrils from him, inwardly proud about his son thinking of the essential things firsthand.

"You did well with these. We will not be thirsty on our way back," he said and noticed how the child relaxed. He doubted he would be able to understand his son anytime soon, if ever. 

"Collect your satchel, your mother is still worried. We should return home now before it gets too hot to travel," he said and waited until Spock returned with the small bag. With one hand on his shoulder Sarek guided his young son home, in the direction of Shi'Khar.

THE END


End file.
